Page 153 of Buried Too Deep

He shouldn’t feel as proud as he did. But he was proud. She wasn’t afraid. Wasn’t sad. Wasn’t feeling anything but pleasure.

Because of me.

“Move,” she whispered, eyes still closed.

“Look at me,” he demanded. He needed to see her. Needed to know everything she was feeling.

Her eyelids fluttered open and, even in the moonlight, he could see her desire.

He began to move, setting a slow, steady pace, watching every flicker of her eyes, listening for every catch of her breath. Figuring out what she liked.

What they both liked.

And when she went over, she kept her eyes on his, her fingers digging into his shoulders as she shuddered and moaned his name. He’d have bruises in the morning, and he couldn’t wait to see them.

He was so intent on her that his own orgasm took him by surprise. He arched his back, his body rigid as he came harder than he ever had before.

Shuddering, he braced his weight on his forearms, resting his forehead against hers. He couldn’t move. Didn’t want to ever move. He wanted to stay like this forever.

“Cora,” he murmured.

“Mmm?” She sounded sleepy, but she was smiling.

“Are you okay?”

“I am so okay.” She sighed, content. “You?”

“I can’t feel my legs.”

She snorted an indelicate laugh as she smoothed her hands over his shoulders. “Maybe we felt too much?”

He laughed. “No such thing.” He kissed her softly. “Sleep now. I need to let SodaPop out and I’ll be back to guard your room.”

She frowned slightly. “You’ll sleep with me, right?”

He hesitated. “I sometimes have dreams.”

She met his gaze. “I can deal with dreams, Phin. Do you need SodaPop on the bed with us?”

That she’d think to ask was such a boon. He hadn’t expected this. Hadn’t expected her. Emotion flooded his chest and he had to kiss her again. “You are a good person, Cora Jane Winslow.”

“So are you, Phineas Butler Bishop.”

He didn’t want to leave her, but he had to walk the dog before he passed out. Reluctantly he pulled out of her and dealt with the condom before pulling on his jeans and shirt.

She’d sat up in bed, watching him, her skin on glorious display. “You’ll come back.” It was a statement, not a question.

“I’ll come back,” he promised. He clucked his tongue at SodaPop, who obediently followed him down the stairs.

Where Molly sat with a cup of coffee. “She’s asleep?”

Phin strode to the kitchen door, knowing his face was red. Blue was asleep on his bed near the radiator and he bent over to give the old boy a quick pat. “Almost. I’m going to sleep in that chair in her room.”

It was only a white lie. Okay, it was a total lie.

Molly snickered. “Sure. You do that.”

Busted. But he couldn’t find it in himself to care. “Come on, SodaPop. Potty time.” He stood outside, shivering while she sniffed the ground and did her business.

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